Hall's first actual magic class at Hogwarts was Transfiguration, and he'd been looking forward to it since the Sorting Hat went back in its box.
"Why are you smiling like that?" Zabini asked, suspicious. "It's a bit... unsettling."
"The ghosts mentioned something interesting at dinner last night," Hall said. "Professor McGonagall transforms into a cat for Transfiguration class."
Hall had never been great with animals. Years ago, Dad had taken him and Ron to visit Cedric Diggory's family estate. They'd kept several pets — beautiful creatures, friendly enough. The moment Hall walked through the door, every single animal fled as if he carried plague. They scrambled over Ron, climbed the walls, did anything to get away from him.
Cedric had needed to physically restrain the panicked creatures.
Later, Cedric's father had sent a letter to Dad complaining that the animals hadn't slept properly in days. The chickens had stopped laying eggs.
Hall had accepted long ago that animals simply didn't like him.
"So," he continued, "I was thinking — the cat would be Professor McGonagall. Which means it won't run away from me."
The Slytherins and Gryffindors sitting nearby perked up with interest.
"Really?" someone said. "You mean there's going to be an actual cat in the classroom?"
"A cat," Hall confirmed, watching the mood shift. "An actual, pettable cat."
He reached into his bag and pulled out a collection of small cat toys — string toys, little balls, mouse-shaped trinkets he'd acquired from Hogsmeade merchants. He'd invested a few Galleons in the venture precisely for this moment.
"These are for everyone," he said, handing them around.
Hermione Granger took a toy eagerly, her eyes bright. "I've always wanted a cat. I hope it likes Gryffindor. I'd take such good care of it."
Pansy Parkinson, a Slytherin girl with dark eyes, scoffed. "As if. The cat will obviously prefer Slytherin. We have far superior accommodations."
What started as a comment between two girls escalated quickly into a full house debate. By the time the bell for class was about to ring, Hermione and Pansy had made a wager: whichever house the cat favoured, it would spend time with them.
Hall watched them agree to this with quiet satisfaction.
Good luck with that.
The classroom door opened to a surprise.
The classroom held an adorable tabby cat perched on the professor's desk. She had striped markings and distinctive patterned markings around her eyes — like tiny spectacles on a scholar's face. The moment they noticed her, both Slytherin and Gryffindor students crowded around.
"She's absolutely precious!"
"So serious-looking!"
Hermione reached out first, her fingers gentle on the tabby's soft fur. The cat's eyes widened in surprise — apparently unused to being touched by anyone other than Professor McGonagall herself.
"So soft!" Pansy immediately followed suit, stroking the tabby's back.
Hall saw his opportunity. He stepped forward and petted the cat thoroughly, enjoying the soft fur. Finally. A cat that doesn't immediately hate me.
When he was satisfied, he withdrew and took his seat.
Meanwhile, Hermione and Pansy escalated their competition. One held out a cat toy, the other dangled a ball of yarn.
"Come with me to Gryffindor," Hermione coaxed.
"Slytherin has far better facilities," Pansy countered.
The tabby cat sat completely still, clearly bewildered by the competing offers.
Hall suppressed a smile.
Then Ron appeared, holding something out to the cat — catnip from somewhere. "Hey there, kitty. Come with me, yeah? I'll get you loads of good food. Better than what you're getting now."
The cat's expression shifted. If a feline could look exasperated, this one did.
Ron was too focused to notice. "Harry! This cat's so skinny, look at her. She needs proper feeding—"
Harry had followed Ron over. "Wait, Ron — is that — is that Hall's brother?"
"Yeah, that's my twin," Ron explained. "Hall's always wanted a cat, but we couldn't afford another one at home."
Hall overheard and raised an eyebrow, amused. Little Ronnie's grown up enough to use my name in a sentence without stuttering.
Ron apparently didn't notice the cat's pointed lack of enthusiasm. "Did you see that? She just rolled her eyes at me! I brought her catnip and she rolled her eyes!"
The bell rang.
Everyone scrambled back to their desks, abandoning the cat toys and their campaign.
No teacher appeared.
The classroom fell into an expectant silence. Then the tabby cat, moving with deliberate grace, leaped down from the desk and transformed.
Professor McGonagall stood before them in her austere black robes.
The room went rigid.
Hermione's face drained of colour. "I just — I touched — I wanted to keep Professor McGonagall as a pet. She's going to take points from Gryffindor. She's definitely going to—"
Ron grabbed Harry's arm, panicking. "Harry, what do I do? What do I do? If McGonagall writes to Mum — if Mum finds out I petted the Transfiguration professor — I'll get a Howler, Harry. She'll send a Howler."
Harry looked down at his own hands, which had definitely made contact with a cat that was also Professor McGonagall. He wanted to hide.
The Slytherins weren't handling it much better.
"Aaaaah, Blaise, what do I do?!" Pansy was on the verge of tears. "McGonagall's going to deduct house points. She's going to make an example of me—"
Zabini remained calm, though barely. He'd stayed clear of the whole cat situation, preferring not to participate. "The Headmaster isn't going to expel anyone, Pansy. Especially not a Slytherin."
"Did you say expelled?!" Pansy seemed to only hear certain words.
"Draco, control her," Zabini pleaded, turning to Malfoy for help.
Then he noticed Malfoy was sitting very still, his eyes unfocused, as if his soul had temporarily departed his body.
"Draco!" Zabini reached over and — metaphorically — pushed his soul back in.
Hall, meanwhile, was completely unmoved. He simply watched the chaos with calm detachment.
Zabini caught sight of him and felt a flash of envy. How does he stay so composed?
Professor McGonagall cleared her throat.
The entire class froze. Even breathing seemed to stop.
"Let us begin the lesson," she said briskly, as if students petted her regularly.